Mr Grumpy Face
by Flaignhan
Summary: As IF she'd just hung a pair of stilettos off of the handle of his monitor. His control panel wasn't a wardrobe, it wasn't a shoe rack. Amy never did anything half as rude as putting her shoes all over his lovely Tardis. Spoilers for 5x04


**A/N:** Just a quick one, as I should really be doing coursework. Gonna look at updating Desert Storm in the next few days. After my initial burst I ran out of steam somewhat, then ended up in Milan (long story) but I'm gonna try and get back into it because I like it. A lot, actually. Spoilers for 5x04 in this one...but just a little. Nothing mega. Enjoy!

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**Mr Grumpy Face.**

**by Flaignhan.**

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He was using her and they both knew it.

Not completely, though. He didn't whisk her off into time and space purely because he might run into River and would need some pretty, young companion to prove that he was getting along just fine. Amy Pond was travelling with him because she ticked all the right boxes, because he'd promised her five minutes, yet made her wait twelve years, and most of all, because she _wanted_ to be.

Today, however, he was using her.

He hated the fact that she just waltzed in and started pressing buttons on _his_ control panel. Amy had been impressed, in awe of this woman who could click her fingers and the Doctor would come running with an air corridor at the ready. She was impressed at the stability and the control that River had when she piloted the Tardis, and the _silence_.

Stabilisers..._honestly_.

And those _shoes_. As _if_ she'd just hung a pair of stilettos off of the handle of his monitor. His control panel wasn't a _wardrobe_, it wasn't a _shoe rack. _Amy never did anything half as rude as putting her shoes all over his lovely Tardis.

She'd raised an eyebrow when he'd imitated the noise. He needn't have done it, but she was humouring him, trying to make him feel small. This was, apparently, the primary function of a _wife_.

_Blegh._ Even the _thought_ of the word made him stick his tongue out in disgust, scraping it against his teeth as he tried to rid all traces of it from his troubled mind.

What irritated him even more was that she and Amy were getting along like a house on fire. Rose would probably have got surly over the whole situation, Martha perhaps a little jealous too, yet Amy, young, lovely, beautiful Amy (not that Rose and Martha weren't young, lovely and beautiful) found it hilarious. Hilarious and intriguing.

What was worse, was that she had taken to mocking him just like River did. Little quips here and there, reminding him of how he was so..._whipped_. 'Sonic me' this, 'Sweetie, I need you' that, who the hell did Dr River Song think she was?

Oh yeah, that's right. His _wife_.

And there that dreadful word was again. _Wife_.

He wiped his hands on his jacket this time, his nose scrunching in displeasure.

When Amy had done that magnificent business with the remote control and the angel, he had wanted to hug her, sweep her off her feet and spin her round and round in circles until they were both dizzy. He wanted to plant a big sloppy kiss on her forehead, tell her she was brilliant, amazing, and wonderful, but he decided that would be overkill. It would be too obvious that he was showing off his shiny new companion. Instead, and this was the really clever bit, he brushed it off, busying himself by pointing his Sonic Screwdriver at the cables underneath the monitor. If he brushed it off then it was clearly obvious that Amy did magnificent things all the time, and she was not a little puppy that needed to be given a biscuit whenever she did well.

Come to think of it though, Amy _did_ do magnificent things all the time. Perhaps he'd take her somewhere nice for ice cream on their next trip.

He wondered if he would ever get used to her. _Her_, with her bushy hair and round eyes that had seen a good deal of the horror he'd seen...yet eyes that still manage to crease at the edges when she smiled. He also wondered if it was upsetting for her, knowing him so well, being _married_ to him, but with him not even having the foggiest idea of how they actually came to be a 'they' as opposed to a 'him' and a 'her'. He wondered if it would be difficult for him, as they progressed, and she gradually knew less and less about him. He wondered if she'd already seen him die.

"Yes we are."

A torchlight was shining on his face, but he didn't look up.

"Sorry, what?" there was a small amount of exasperation in his tone. He'd perfected it over the years, that 'I'm busy being clever, leave me be' tone. He pressed a few buttons on the doo-hicky that he'd liberated from River's smug pocket, pretending he knew what the jumbled symbols on the screen meant.

"Talking about you!" River replied brightly.

"I wasn't listening, I'm busy." More button-bashing, more unreadable symbols.

"Ah," she said, disbelievingly.

He hated that tone. She was humouring him. _Again_.

"Other way up."

He froze, and frowned, ignoring the constricting feeling in his chest that came with imminent defeat. He turned the doo-hicky the right way up, and suddenly, the jumbled mess on the screen was English, and he could read every word of it.

"Yeah..." he trailed off, heading further into the labyrinth. He caught her smug smile out of the corner of his eye and his eyebrows dropped forward in a scowl.

Amy was right. He was _definitely_ Mr Grumpy-Face today.

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**The End.**


End file.
